Vocaloid: Colors Beyond the Cracked Window
by kurotsuba
Summary: If I'm to take a leaf out of Lemony Snicket's book: "I am sorry to say that this story you are about to read is extremely unpleasant." What you're about to see are pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that tells the short life of Kaito Shion, a freshman studying at a prestigious art college who was later found to have burned to death in a studio room... Dark epistolary songfic. ONGOING.
1. Introduction: Preface

**INTRODUCTION**  
><strong>Preface<strong>

* * *

><p>I come across quite a number of humorous epistolary fanfics here on FFnet—I thoroughly enjoy them and the amusing references the authors have included are highly entertaining. (If you don't know what an 'epistolary' is, just check up the dictionary, yeah?) I've yet to find one that isn't about fun, but with a much darker tone.<p>

Unfortunately, I can't say the same for songfictions. Music is one of my greatest inspirations for writing, and personally I find songfic is somewhat like a twist from the usual standard storywriting style. When fangirls (and a handful of fanboys) start to butcher it with massive copying and pasting their favorite lyrics into their works, this interesting style becomes tagged with a bad reputation for being one of the most-hated types of crapfic. (I'm also guilty of this with my other Vocaloid fanfic, _The "Express" Elevator_—even though I only borrowed two stanzas and that was only like less than 3% of the entire story.)

This fanfic is my experimental attempt to write something uncommon: a dark epistolary songfic that is inspired/loosely associated from some Vocaloid songs (there are no lyrics anywhere between the lines!). Writing in this style also helps me to dive deeper into the psychological state of the characters, to practice character development. I hope you'll find this work of mine an interesting read, albeit the themes and some references in this story may be disturbing and not for the weak-hearted.

* * *

><p><em>Vocaloid: Colors Beyond the Cracked Window<em> © kurotsuba.

Vocaloids:  
>KAITO, MEIKO, Miku Hatsune, RinLen Kagamine, Luka Megurine © Crypton;  
>Gackpoid, Megpoid, Lily © Internet Co.;<br>Kiyoteru Hiyama, SF-A2 codename miki © AH-Software;  
>VY1-Mizki, VY2-Yuma © Bplats, Yamaha;<br>IA -Aria of the Planetes- © 1st Place Co.

Inspirations:  
>"DYE" © AVTechNO!;<br>"afterglow", "No Logic" © JimmyThumb-P;  
>"What's COLOR?" © Shinjou-P;<br>"Leia", "Palette", "Reon" © Yuyoyuppe.  
><em>A Series of Unfortunate Events 1: the Bad Beginning<em> © Lemony Snicket.


	2. Opening Theme: Prelude

**OPENING THEME**  
><strong>Prelude<strong>

INSPECTOR KAMUI'S LETTER

* * *

><p>Dear Reader,<p>

If I'm to take a leaf out of Lemony Snicket's _A Series of Unfortunate Events 1: the Bad Beginning_:

"I am sorry to say that this story you are about to read is extremely unpleasant."

If you're looking for a light, romantic fluff with bits of humorous crack, I suggest you should stop here and go for _Vocaloid: the "Express" Elevator_ instead.

However, if you're a fan of dark angsty tales who craves for an unusual reading experience, you have come to the right place—what you're about to see in the next few chapters are pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that tells the short life of Kaito Shion-san, a freshman studying at the prestigious Crypton Academy of Fine Arts who is later found to have burned to death in a studio room.

It may be just a part of my job, but I have taken extreme pain and effort to gather these evidences together, so that one day this terrible incident and the seemingly-unrelated events that have led the poor soul to a suicidal end in order to escape from a miserable reality he had lost faith with, will be brought to light.

An eccentric writer who goes by the pseudonym 'kurotsuba' has generously agreed to take up the duty of editing and publishing my findings to the general public. By the way, he is the author of that nonsensical LuKaito elevator fanfiction I mentioned at the beginning of this letter.

Without further ado, let us dive into the twisted world of Kaito-san and his beautiful girlfriend by the name of Leia, whom we can only meet on the charred remains of the canvas littered around the crime scene.

With all due respect,

_K. Gackpoid_

Gakupo Kamui  
>Inspector<br>Criminal Investigation Bureau Division 1  
>Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department<p> 


	3. First Act, Scene 1: afterglow x Leia

**FIRST ACT, SCENE 1  
>afterglow x Leia<strong>

KAITO'S DIARY

* * *

><p><strong>2013, March 15, Friday<br>**_Graduation Day_

If I had to describe my whole high school life using an analogy, I would probably say…a horizon in the middle of nowhere. Horizon? In the middle of nowhere? What kind of blasphemy is this?

I was wondering that myself too.

The memories of my past three years were hazy: I could barely recall the names of the ones I shared classes with—their face were just smooth, pale porcelains in a sea of uniformed silhouettes; the voices of the teachers that taught me sound so far away, like inaudible background noises in my head. I imagined the rows of tables and chairs like an expanded chessboard; the chalkboard at the front was a black hole that stretched into nothingness…

All that's left, was a horizon in the middle of nowhere.

It's Graduation Day today: it began with a somber, ceremonial morning at the Hall, followed by the emotional ruckus that echoed down the corridors. I simply sat at my table, all the way at the far back of the classroom, staring down at the certificate that showed nothing but black dots across the cream-colored paper, ending with a blotch of red at the bottom-left corner.

Handshakes, bows, pats on the back, hugs and even kisses were exchanged in between smiles, laughter and tears. I was invisible from the chatter…until someone tapped lightly on my table.

I looked up, my eyes fixed on the big white, silky ribbon on top of a mop of gold hair. Ah, she was an old crush, who crushed my feelings with her vanity that froze my heart, and since then my heart never beat for her again. She was talking to me—I could feel that—but my ears heard nothing but buzzes, like the static from a broken radio.

Then I turned and gazed at the cracked window beside me—the only other thing that wasn't shrouded by the memory mist. It happened during one of the Physical Education lesson in my second year: we boys were playing baseball, and one of us—I couldn't remember who—hit a home run when we heard a sharp sound. Since it was a small accident, the case was wrapped up pretty quickly, but the cracked pane was left as it is.

That cracked window became the escape door from the stifling chess game of misery, a looking-glass that showed me a world—my world.

And in this wonderland, I met you.

Soft pink hair that seemed to glow in the sunset. Eyes that were bluer than the clear sky.

"What…is your name?"

A smile that melted the ice that encased my heart. A musical voice that drowned the noise in my ears.

"My name…is Leia."


	4. First Act, Scene 2: Leia (PREVIEW)

**FIRST ACT, SCENE 2  
>Leia<br>(PREVIEW CHAPTER)**

KAITO'S DIARY

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><p><strong>2013, April 15, Monday<strong>  
><em>A Fresh Beginning!<em>

These are my goals for a brand new start in a new school environment:  
>1. A Leia a day.<br>2. Smiling exercise.  
>3. Dye my hair from blue to black. Mum says that I'll look handsomer that way. (I wonder.)<br>4. Eat proper meals. Ice cream isn't a meal—it's a dessert. A. DESSERT.

Mum seems very happy with me ever since I graduated from high school. I've stopped shutting myself in my own room 24/7; I've stopped lamenting about the scars on my back, about Rin…

I'm really sorry, Mum. It must have been tough on you, having to raise me all alone when he abandoned us for another bitch… Ah, I should probably add this as a goal too: curses should be lock away and begone from my mental dictionary—I'll have to flush the profanities out of my system.

I was flipping back through the diaries I kept from my elementary school days, to my junior high, then to my senior high…and wow, look at how much my writing style has changed over the years. Apparently the sarcastic streak that my new neighbor, Aria, has is starting to affect me. It's a good thing, I guess, because I can't stop rereading my recent entries with a grin.

Of course, there's no way I'll ever forget about you, Leia. I'm just saving the best for the last.

Leia, I wish that I could have met you earlier.  
>Leia, I'm very grateful that I was able to finally meet you.<br>Leia, you're the warm light that guided me out of the cold darkness.

Leia, I love you.

P.S. Mum's overjoyed to hear that I have a girlfriend. She even says that you're the most beautiful girl in the world. I'm thankful that she doesn't bug me to bring you home to show her…

— x x x —

**2013, May 7, Tuesday**

This lecture about Mona Lisa is so boring. :) I have to doodle smiley faces all over this page just to keep myself awake. :)

If only Mona Lisa has pink hair…

Like Leia's. :)

— x x x —

**2013, May 23, Thursday**

It had been slightly more than a month since I restarted my life at Crypton Academy of Fine Arts (not to mention two weeks of break from writing anything in this diary—all those weekly assignments from Professor Hiyama had been keeping me real busy), and now I have three confessions to make:

1. College showed me a whole new world that could put the pathetic conformity back during my old school days to shame.

For the sake of convenience—I'll also admit that I like the extra one hour to procrastinate under the blanket—I had moved into the student dorm, sharing a room with Yuma Vylz, a second-year undergrad from the Acting faculty. I barely saw him most of the time—students from the Film and Stage courses had really horrible timetables and overcrowded schedules which left them with little to no time for themselves. With the fiercely dark competition adding on to the stress, it's no wonder about the flying rumors from that department of violent outbursts that eventually led to a suicidal end. On an ironic note, Acting has been the most popular faculty ever since the college was founded, with the number of young, hopeful teens vying for a spot in any of its hell-like courses increasing exponentially each year. The temptation for fame, the jealous envy to be popular and well-known, the desire to attain stardom… I could never understand why anyone would be willing to shed blood for something so shallow.

As for Yuma, he seemed like a generally nice person—well, we didn't have much chance and time to actually sit down and talk, but he would greet me on the occasions we bump into each other, that he still acknowledged my existence as his roomie.

In exchange, I would turn a blind eye whenever his fraternal twin sister, Mizki, crashed into our room. Just like how boys were forbidden to go anywhere near the girls' dorm, they were also not allowed to set foot into the male's territory. Unfortunately, no college rules could stop a bunch of hormone-excited teen-adults from night after night of sexual bliss. Besides, in an art school where freedom of expression is one of the most basic rights a member here is entitled to, it's not surprising to see gays and lesbians being open about their controversial relationship.

Harem, lust, homo…even narcissistic selfcest. It's a challenge trying to force yourself to sleep when your ears were filled with sensual moans from the next door that could send your mind down the dirtiest gutter.

Until that day.  
>That scene.<br>Those two.  
>In the room.<br>On my bed.

An erotic incest was the very last thing I ever wanted to see in my entire life.

2. I got along fairly well with most of my coursemates so far, but not without a lot of effort putting up despicable masks and sugar-coating bitter taunts.

Professor Hiyama wasted no time to get the class started with gesture drawing right after our last coursework for life portraits. Every lesson he would bring in a nude model—male on odd weeks, female on even weeks—who would pose on an elevated black stage in the middle of the studio bathed under the fiery orange spotlights. The model would shift every few minutes to change the arrangement of their well-defined limbs, while the students who were sitting in the semi-darkness around him/her would scratch their charcoal on the papers restlessly.

The model of the week was a female: her small, lank figure lacked any curves that could define her femininity save for her long cherry-red hair and wide maroon eyes. Disappointment flashed across the face among many male students, while the girls sneered at the model's unattractive appeal. The professor seemed oblivious to these reactions—or maybe he just didn't care; he simply barked at everyone to settle down quickly and get out their materials so that he could begin the lesson for the day.

"Miki," Professor Hiyama called out to the model, his tone was emotionless and business-like. "Take it off."

She nodded, fumbling with the white sheet before it slid off her shoulders and fluttered down to the floor. Shuffling noises echoed in the cold studio room as the students craned to study the model intently, to etch every bit of her skin into their lewd eyes. I could barely catch the slight trembling of her thin lips when the professor spoke again, "One minute. Starts now."

_[ More To Be Revealed ]_

3. Miku Hatsune.

_[ To Be Revealed ]_

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><p><strong>- TO BE CONTINUED -<strong>


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